Lashes and Little Ones: Confessions of a Bitchy Resting Face sufferer

My name is Alexandra Geddes and I have Bitchy Restigng Face. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, watch the video below. But, to cut to the point, I have a face which scowls rather than smiles, frowns in the face of friendliness, and generally looks bitchy.

The news was delivered to me last week, over a romantic meal with Mr.G. Looking a bit nervous, he blurted out that he thought my face was a bit "cross looking". I thought I reacted with a look of innocent puzzlement, but clearly not, as he, with enthusiasm, said "Now, now! You look really mean. It's not the frowning so much, I guess the Botox fixed that, more the smile with dead eyes coupled with the sneering expression."

Wow. What could I say? At first I was cross. I was sitting there, thinking what a lovely time we were having, when I get hit with that. Mr, G started to twitch nervously. As well as having a Bitchy Resting Face, I also do not take criticism well, and he knows it. I could see him deliberating how long he had left with his manhood still in tact. But, as images of rusty scissors and testicular earrings came to mind (perhaps that is the problem!) I suddenly realised that he might be on to something. I came to accept, in that second of realisation, that I have Bitchy Resting Face.

Mean....

Now, I am not alone in this. There are millions of sufferers out there, some more famous than others. You know that while Robert Pattinson whispered sweet nothings into her ear, Kristen Stewart looked bitchy. No matter how many times David brings her breakfast in bed, Victoria Beckham will still scowl at him. And, no matter how cute the child bearing flowers, the Queen will still look very unimpressed. I am in good company.

Bitchy...

However, I like a challenge. So whilst on holiday last week, I decided to try and conquer my 'problem', and really work at looking happy and friendly ("it's-all about the eyes, smile with your eyes" the eternally cheerful Mr.G helpfully suggested). It didn't come easily though, I struggled to look nice without really trying. My most successful tactic was repeating favourite funny stories to myself. So as I swam in the pool, I reminded myself of the time Mr.G flew off the back of a treadmill in the gym. But, the lady looking directly at my face, which was twitching between Bitchy Resting Face and internal laughter, looked positively afraid, and backed away quickly like she thought I was crazy. Sitting in the bar one evening, making an effort to look friendly and happy, I recalled the time Mr.G got a padlock stuck on his toe and had to get industrial help to remove it, but no one approached or even smiled. Even the waiter approached with trepidation.